The Way We Are
by The Pouting Horse
Summary: Not everyone in Death City is human and when amnesiac Maka Albarn moves there, oblivious to everything, could the people she meets hold the key to uncovering her memories? What's with this Soul guy anyway? Why is he so interested in her?
1. Proogue

_Author's note - Time for another story I think! I am updating my others stories as well but for the time being I want to do another Soul Eater one with a twist on it where they're not all human... if you know what I mean. Okay I know you do that sounded really stupid. Enjoy ^.^ This chapter basically gives a background story to two main characters in this fanfic in case anyone gets confused... it is slow at first to get into and the characters get revealed in it so don't worry if you don't know who they are at the beginning all in good time shall things be rewarded XD_

_-The Pouting Horse_

**Prologue**

Not everything is as what it seems. Creatures of Earth have their own story, their own fable, their own secret. It all began a during the end of the Pleistocene era when the ice age started to turn into lush green foliage and warmth overcame the chilling sub-zero climate. People these days always presume that the first natives of the Holocene era were Neanderthals, vile and desolate creatures who merely amused themselves through the ancient arts of sacrifice and hunting extinct creatures.

That's what people thought. They thought of a lie passed generations down from parent to child to grandchild, pretending that they weren't there – lurking in the background, being their second shadow. Many didn't want to believe them even though they knew of their existence and their reason for being. They cursed the origin of their existence.

The shadows pitied the humans, wasting their lives doing the same routine every day. Never fully moving forward, never gaining much to be them removed from the living world permanently, only to be tortured in the afterlife, suffering, teased, lied to.

There are more than on type of the second shadows the humans fear. The largest clans consist of the most dangerous; the one's who need the humans in order to survive, the one's who take advantage of the humans, the one's whom humans are their predators as much as they are their prey.

Lets skip a million or so years later to the 11th century in England

Since the Battle of Hastings in 1066, Southern England, these creatures have been in hiding for their near whole lives. One more thing – The Bayeux Tapestry is a LIE, created to cover up their existence for not everyone in the battle was human. Feuds between creatures over the centuries have nursed vendettas but the wounds have never healed; loss of life, betrayal, taking prisoners. One particular one happened a few days before the battle. One that the shadows of the night and the humans that trampled the earth in the daylight would never forget...

**10th October 1066**

"You can't keep this up. Give up your act and show what you truly are, devil creatures! We will find you and you shall die back to the depth of hell!"

"Silence!" A hissing sound in the dead of night commanded to the angry settlers of Hastings, Sussex, their torches blazing fire had been blown out, leaving nothing but the moon to give them light. "How dare you talk to us like that! Say one more word and you're dead!" The threats began to make the crowd of angry humans quiver, shake and become anxious.

The majority of them all followed the same fashion; the men wore ripped bottoms and top to match with a thick woven rope as a belt that hung loosely on them, the occasional bruise now and them to match their cadaverous complexion from starvation through the chilling autumn months. The women wore long dresses, covering their arms, legs and neck with long limp greasy hair that hung pathetically by their sides. There were two that stood out though. A young woman with beautiful golden long hair placed up high in the styles of the south, directly from the capital, with a man by her side, locked arm in arm, him protecting her. He stood tall and proud, brown in hair with a small stubble beard, the finest leather clothed him, a long thin sword slapped his leg when ever he turned from the bindings that held it around his waist. The man, who was the Lord of Sussex at the time came to see if the rumours of non-human species existing in the world of the living were deemed true. He was also a stubborn man and repelled any order he was given, despising people who thought they had more power over him. That was his mistake.

"Ha. You're going to kill-" He was stopped in his speech by a creature of the night that grabbed him in the darkness, the Lord screaming in pain, the crowd of humans panicking, demanding to know where he was, followed by some others being taken the same way he was. The crowd could hear bones snapping, people wailing out in pain before the ultimate silence. Death. Heavy breathing was heard all around, every part of their body either petrified or shaken to the point where they'd be unable to move. That's when the torches mysteriously re-lit themselves, purple flames sparked from the wood, only to return to normal. That's when they saw the bodies.

Mangled corpses strung limpidly on the sodden red / green grass, blood on their body, their clothes ripped off, torn and scattered around them in a ritualistic sort of way. Women and men wailed in distress and pain seeing their loved ones with missing limbs, fresh, wet blood pussing from their muscles where the skin had been ripped off, insects of all kinds already coming in to feast on the frozen figures., crawling into their skin. The Lady of Sussex was first to see her husband without any arms nor legs, his head separated from his collar area, the trachea the only reason it was still connected to his body. He was run dry, the well-proportioned man had been shrivelled to a prune, his bones looking as if someone had pathetically thrown a thin layer of pasty blue paint over him, mixing in with dry blood staining his neck. Naturally she fainted and fell hard to the ground at the sight of her soul mate now destroyed in a way that was too gruesome even for the most demonic of humans, something that even the most brutal of murderers who sought deadly revenge could never perform.

"Devils in human suits! Come out! You're dead meat that is only good to rot in hell! Be gone with your satanic ways! You bastards killed our Lord and have put our pregnant Lady in a deep sleep! Let God be our saviour and kill you all! Damn you all away!" The priest of Hastings began to shout in the night time, a rosary equipped in his hand, a sharp wooden tool in the other whilst the torches gave him light where shade surrounded.

The Lady of Sussex passed away the next day from internal bleeding in the head where she fell, with her under developed child dead in her womb, thick dark blood ran from her genitalia that was near impossible to stop for haemophilia was abundant during the dark ages. Of course this meant a skirmish was going to happen and the creatures of the night were to come out and fight against the mammals of the daylight – a fight to the end of one existence. The humans wanted revenge on the invincible shadows for the death of their Lord and his family... yet they knew they'd never win.

Word went around that they had been murdered by the Devil's creatures across the channel in Normandy, France where personal allies dominated, humans know him as William of Normandy or William the Conqueror. He planned to seek avenge the death of his childhood friend, to destroy the sinful creatures once and for all, something that the English could not do. This drove him to his madness, deciding to take over the country, using his power across the sea to control the neighbouring land...

**14th October 1066**

"He's not old enough to go into battle! He could die!" A woman with a pale complexion, fair hair and pale grey eyes cried out, holding her son close to her, his gaunt expression and droopy eyes made him look ill, quiet to the contrary that he was living and healthy. "Then he shall die for the safety of humanity, he shall die defending his loved ones, and that is final!" A hefty looking man with a scar on his faced slapped the woman across the side of her head, knocking her unconscious to the floor, the son began shouting at the man.

"You plan to hurt your own kind whilst the shadows do it to us too!? Have you any consideration-"

"Be quiet boy! You're going to war, regardless if you're only 15 and that is final. Him too!" The man looked away from the son and stared at another. He bore the same facial features as the younger child, the same colour hair, the same colour eyes, yet he was taller and older than him. The evidence was clear that he was the younger son's brother. He held a fiddlestick tightly in his hand, and simply nodded to the man, not wanting to get into an argument where he would not win. He rushed to his brother's side on the floor and held his mother's head whilst the younger boy tried to wake her up. "We don't know our father and you decide to take our mother away from us?!" The younger brother shouted at the man, a fierce expression on his visage. "Brother be quiet! We need to take her to the doctor, she's not responding..."

**Meanwhile...**

"Today? Is it... today?" A snake-like voice hissed from the shadows of a dimly lit room, a few candles scattered around, going out and re-lighting themselves. A tall pale figure sat on a black gothic looking chair, his blood red eyes glowed in the light, making the light from the flame envious of the beauty and majesty they possessed. "Yes it is time. The humans have decided they'd attack us by surprise. Foolish creatures. Disgusting creatures. Weak creatures." He replied, a soft yet powerful tone emitted from his vocal cords that could only be achieved by someone so powerful. "But what interested me were the two reluctant children who didn't want to fight, their mother was... how shall I put this lightly... forced to consider..." He added to the first voice. "Interesting creatures aren't they? Humans are so complicated. I think those two would be quiet a nice meal-" the voice hissed before interrupted by the pale figure.

"You know the rules we do not consume children for they are the next generation of existence... our existence..."

"Forgive me, it was only a suggestion-"

"A suggestion that was too rash. Know your place next time instead of talking back to me, you know the consequences. Now as for the event the humans are performing, we must stop them. They have allies from France who are aiding them ruthlessly, but they will not prevail. We may be small in number but we are stronger, faster and above all, more powerful than them." The pale figure held out his hand and summoned a black rose to grow from it without the need of words.

The rose grew long and stood proudly, but looked mundane and cold throughout it's short life, only to be set on fire, purple flames sprung from the centre, turning it to ash in a few seconds, deep scarlet embers were the only thing left of it. "I can sense them coming, marching towards the hill. Ha. They want to burn our home." As the tall figure stood up, numerous footsteps also tapped the ground delicately whilst chairs were pushed back lightly, the creatures getting out of them, ready to fight without a seconds thought.

"Today we fight for our home. For our safety. For our protection and existence. It'll be fun, won't it?" The pale figure chuckled darkly and walked outside, hearing footsteps closely behind him, sniggers and laughs circulating the environment. The sun beamed on them as they walked out, clouds occasionally covering it. "Come out, come out where ever you are, pathetic humans!" the pale figures eyes glowed once more, his army proudly behind him all bore their teeth, ready for an attack...

**Back to the humans...**

"It's with regret to tell you she's passed away. My condolences, I couldn't stop the bleeding" a man with a mask that resembled an Ibis bird lifted it up, revealing his scarred face, showing his sincerest of looks to the two young men. He slowly walked away and placed the mask back on his face and headed outside of a tent, leaving the living alone with their dead mother. "He will pay for this!" The younger of the two cried out, tears slowly running down his eyes whilst the other stood in silence, praying in his mind that she would wake up from her slumbering sleep. He didn't prevail. He couldn't, he knew God had taken her away and there was nothing he could do about it, so he placed a small moth eaten, rugged blanket on a nearby table onto her bruised face, covering the side of her head where it had impact on the ground. He lifted his younger brother to his feet and pulled him with all his might out of the tent and way from their deceased mother.

"There's no use crying, she can't cry with you and you're a man now. Men don't cry so pull yourself together." The older brother said as he shook his sibling hoping to return him back to reality from his depressed haze. "I... that man will pay for what he did. How are we supposed to live with no parents... I can't... even... think of anything. What purpose of life do I have now?" The boy stood up from his crouch and walked over to the tent where the man who murdered their mother rested. "You can't kill him we need him!" the older brother shouted. The younger turned his head slightly and grinned darkly, baring his teeth somewhat sharp looking teeth slightly. "Oh don't worry I'm not going to kill him... yet..." The young boy replied back with an evil tone and walking into a red and brown tent that looking from the stitch work was poorly sewn.

**Inside the tent... then coming out**

"We can not possibly win against them, but we will kill as many as possible! The creatures of the night will not haunt us any longer. We will not fear their wrath when we sleep through their active time at dusk. Today we are men who fight for our freedom from Satan's soldiers!" The whole crowd of people jeered with encouragement, lifting their swords and axes in the air as they marched out the tent, their bodies fully equipped with armour, helmets and their artillery that varied from small to large swords, rustic axes, metal tipped spears and pewter shields. The air was chilly that day, a thick fog settled on the ground a few minutes after the humans left the tent and headed to an old castle, an eyesore in the land that placed itself upon a large hill.

The appearance of the castle was fairly cliché, average height, average size, the occasional cobweb on the broken glass window, but an eerie feeling surrounded it, drawing innocent people to the darker side of life. It was a presence that no human could understand fully, drawing them into madness and dwelling in a life of depression, their mind falling into a never ending abyss...

They were there. Flanked and ready, standing in a perfect line, a northern reincarnation of the notorious Spartan soldiers – their formation was too perfect. They were perfect in the face too, their beautiful skin from all shades ascending from ivory to tan – where the creatures had come from over seas and their exotic paradises, wanting a change of scenery. Their eyes were roughly the same beautiful colour – red, varying from scarlet to crimson to a deep ox-blood shade. The leader who was by far the most beautiful had pure white wavy hair and glowing rubies that replaced his eyes. His clothing was far more formal than anyone else on the battlefield and by far more expensive than all the clothing of the villagers and the lower class creatures put together.

"So. This is your true form, this is your appearance. It was foolish of you to reveal yourselves, for one – you're outnumbered and you will perish and secondly you will be hunted down for a life time, revealing your existence to us was-"

"Was what? Foolish you might add at the end?" The creature interrupted the villager, who was shocked as he knew what he would finish his minute speech with.

"How... how did you? How did you know that?!"

"Oh please, you think that all we do is kill pathetic waste life like you all day? You don't even taste good. But still, we have powers, powers that pathetic beings who aren't worth to exist... wouldn't... how should I put this... comprehend with."

"You demons in angel's skin! You shall not invade my mind, let alone my village any longer!" The man spat the words out of his mouth, rage fuelled his body, a full sense of hatred reflected onto the creatures, angry that they knew how to unlock the secrets of the complex human mind. The villager began running quickly up the hill, a few moments later many after him. The two young boys, caught in the middle of it were still mourning over the loss of their mother. Orphans as they now where, they had nothing left to lose. The older sibling had a job with very little salary and couldn't often eat every night due to the fact he couldn't afford it. There was a way for the mother, who at the time was healthy, very youthful and sinless, without of course the illegitimate sons she had, to engage in prostitution that would pay her heartedly but she refused and swore she would never more have men touching her body.

"_Only one man will ever see me nude, touch my body and sin against God with me for we are not in a marital state. That is the way it will always be. Be gone you men! Go back to your whore houses you can never have what is under here."_

Blood. There was blood everywhere. Blood on the rotting, fly infested corpses. Blood on the sodden muddy grass. Blood on the blades and shields of both living and fallen men. Blood that spilled on the shadows of the night, their vicious sharp tongues licked it up, savouring the metal flavour. Occasionally some spat it out, complaining that the victim tasted disgusting and there was no need of their existence if they were to have precious liquid as revolting as that.

There were only a few men left, the boys who flanked at the back, too scared to fight and lacked skill greatly had survived during this perilous time. The leader of the conquest was dead, as most of the allies who came over from Normandy too. The younger of the two siblings kept hearing one of them screaming in French, but due to having no education and barely being able to read or write, he had no idea of what the traumatised soldier was bellowing out. The creatures of the night only suffered one casualty who disintegrated quickly into the ground, his remains no where to be found. There weren't many to begin with, around about 15 of them, and the loss of the lowest class of their kind meant no sorrow to the leader of the group of creatures.

The pale creature looked down on the youngest of the siblings, a reluctance in his eyes. His scent was average, nothing spectacular, but then again, nothing that would put him off from destroying him either. He approached him, slowly walking down the hill, walking in puddles of blood, his eyes never losing focus of his next victim. He crushed the skull of every soldier who came his way with the small twist of his hand against his victim's face and pressed his fingers hard into the skin, decapitating the head off and smashing it to the ground, yet he remained perfectly sane in the most insane of ways.

The wind blew, and the creature lost track of his mission, his eyes darted behind the young man, and began to approach his next victim faster than he did to his previous. The young boy turned around to see that it was in fact his older brother who would be massacred by the monster. He turned his legs and began to run in the same direction the creature was, the older brother oblivious to what was about to happen...

"_That smell... is... over powering. Give it to me. NOW!"_ The creature thought to himself, his mouth slightly opened, the bones that grew out from his gums were sharp and deadly, aged and stained faintly from when he had eaten. He ran faster than he counted on, the younger of the two siblings still running towards his brother.

"WES! LOOK OUT!" The fifteen year old boy jumped in front of the 19 year old, his arms spread wide, before the impact of sharp teeth that plunged into his collar bone. "GO! RUN! NOW...AH!" The young boy withered to the floor and began moving about as if he were having a mental fit, his limbs jolting everywhere, sometimes hitting the ground, sometimes punching the air. The sharp teeth cut his into his nerves, sending them into places that were not needed. He felt like he was going to die at that point, he could feel blood running out of his neck area, he was hyperventilating and yet unable to breathe at the same time. It felt uncomfortable, as if a boulder had been put onto his chest and was near impossible to get off. He turned around, still writhing in pain only to find that his older brother had vanished out of sight. He saw two black leather boots from his bird's eye view. A voice whispered into his ear, soft long hair placed itself against his face, the young boy terrified.

"My son. My grown up son. Soon you will be one of us. Soon you will be-" He cut off after that ending with a chocking sound. The boy looked up, only to find a metal blade gouged into the creature's neck, blood spewing onto the boy's youthful, pale face, his tongue taking in his liquid red velvet. To a human the taste was revolting and they would have been sick in an instant. The taste was pleasing to him, strange enough.

"_What? What's happening to me?! Why... why can't I resist? What have I become?! I've gotta get out of here!"_ The boy though to himself, his thoughts racing everywhere in is head, the pain pounding. The got up, forcing his legs to move away, letting no one catch him. He found a nearby tree a few hundred metres away by a fresh water stream where light was visible through the thick clouds. His eyesight seemed different. It didn't look murky and gloomy before, but clearer than polished glass imported from the exotic lands of the Mediterranean. Every colour was enhanced, every fragment in the water, ever pebble, every fish, even the very cracks of his finger prints were perfectly visible to him. It was as easy as breathing, the way he could see now.

He could smell the bakery from the other side of the village, the aromatic, fresh break coming out of the stove. He could smell the fresh freesia growing, the scent overwhelming his nostrils. Most of all, despite the fact that he had enhanced features, he was terrified. Mortified even. He shook in his skin, uncertain as to what happened to him. He looked down to see the open wound and teeth marks on his collar, just above his slender chest. Nothing. No mark, no blood. It was as if there was nothing there to begin with.

"_What. Am. I?"..._

**1067, a public ale house by the Thames river, London**

The room stank with the smell of alcohol, tobacco and drunkard's breath. Sitting in the corner of the room was a dark hooded figure, a candle by his table but no tankard unlike the rest of the tables which were stacked with them up high, ready to collapse and hit a drunken fool on the head. The door of the pub-inn creaked open, revealing a man who looked around 20 years old, light skin and grey eyes.

"Men! It's Wes!" The drunken crowd cheered out of stupidity to see the young man entering such a hectic building. "Yes good evening to you too, everyone" He jeered, a smile on his face. He went to the bar tender and sat on a stool, ready to get his usual – the only thing they served, besides beautiful women- ale. The bar tender snorted the mucus from a cold he was recovering from up his nose, wiped his thick black moustache on a dirty off white sleeve and poured the young man's drink. He placed it heavily on the surface, froth escaping from the tankard and drizzling down onto the wood, seeping into the cracks, making it sticky and stained.

"Someone is in your seat, Wes. They've taken your table." The bartender told him, re wiping his upper lip before spitting on the floor behind him.

"Do you have any clue who he is?" Wes replied, curious to who would sit in the famous Wes' table.

"Not sure, I can't see through fabric" The man chuckled. "I'll talk to you later, see if I Can get any information out of him. Oh, and that'll be half a penny for the drink" He added at the end, demanding his money.

"This place is so expensive I don't know why I keep returning here" Wes muttered to himself, thankful that the man with the moustache was on the other side of the bar, his face squashed in a large woman's breasts. He stared at the cloaked figure, unable to tell if he were looking back at him. Intrigued by the fact that everyone knew that is was Wes' table where he could sit and relax after a day of mucking out the stables of the castle of a fancy lord, he got closer to his table, sitting down next to a drunk sleeping man, pushing his head away from Wes' elbow as quick as possible. He turned his head round slightly, looking at the cloaked figure again.

Glowing red eyes stared back at him.

"_What!? No. It... It can't be. Those... Those eyes. Not those eyes."_ Wes' thoughts jumbled through his mind, painful flash backs occurring; the loss of his mother; the red glowing eyes of the creatures he'd seen a year ago; the way he ran away from his injured brother, not looking back to save him. If it weren't for him he wouldn't be alive. Alive as a human at least. He had to know more about the hooded figure, knowing the dangerous of what would happen if he did too.

The figure stood up, walked away from the table and out of the door into the gloomy London streets, the sky ready to birth the moon and swallow the sun. Wes felt nervous, adrenaline pumping through his body. He quickly got to his feet, waking the man up beside him front a few slaps to the face.

It was dangerous to walk alone, particularly in London at night. He could see the cloaked figure a few feet away, he paced himself to match the distance between them at all times, fearful of what would happen if he was caught following them.

It was quiet a few minutes, around 10 before anything really happened, Wes followed the figure through winding roads, up unfamiliar hills and soon it was pitch black. The figure came to a near-by stable filled with horses and the occasional squirrel burrowing itself in the hay during the harsh winter months. Wes hid by the entrance of the door, and every so often looked in. A pale hand came from the cloak and waved his hand by a near-by candle, a purple flame erected itself without the aid of flint and steel. _"Impossible"_ Wes thought, his eyes examining the now orange-red flame burning slowly.

"Wes. I know you're there" Wes froze at the sound of a familiar voice, a bead of sweat poured down the side of his temple, his whole body froze. "Who...who are you?" He relied, his words were weak.

"You know who I am. I want to talk. Come talk to your me, I want to see your face." Wes' body felt as if it were being crushed and contorted, his legs began to move without his command, straining him into the stable. The candle didn't give much light but it was still visible to see the outline of the figure. He saw the figure's hand in a weird position and began moving it at the same time that Wes felt his body moving.

The figure was controlling him with the mere movements of their hand. They released the hold on him, their hand flopping to their knee. Both hands moved up the edge of the cloak where their face was and removed it.

"Soul...you're...you're alive"

"You left me to die. You left me to rot." His eyes glowed red and pierced into his older brothers. He could see his spiky white hair, his dull droopy eyes that were no longer grey, and his demonic smile showed two rows of perfectly sharp teeth, his fangs were slightly longer though, and narrower too.

"You said run! You told me to go! What could I-"

"What you could have done was to come back for me! If I were dead there you could have at least given me a funeral. But no! You ran away to London! You'd rather fornicate with prostitutes then find your own brother!" The objects in the room began to rise higher as Soul became more angry and eventually gravity took over and they smashed to the floor. "Soul... I'm so sorry-"

"You're not sorry. You're only sorry because you got caught. You're sorry that now because I'm... alive... if you can call it that... and now that I've found you, you think that everything will be all right. You know what I am now, don't you?"

"... I have my theories"

"What are your theories? Go ahead with your pitiful excuses"

"You're... you're a" Wes gulped, sweating all over at what he was about to say. "A.. a vampire"

"...I am an immortal. I am a drinker of human blood and killer of humanity. I am the shadow of the night that haunts houses, searching for my next victim. So yes. I am a vampire. I have more power than you humans could ever understand. My... our own father... turned me. He died as a drank his blood by the hand of one of your kind. I never move forward, I am in this solid state, forever fifteen. Do you know what that feels like? The taste of food is bland and dry. The touch of fresh water has no effect, the taste of ale running down my throat leaves no strong after taste."

"Our... father?! So he was... like you then? Was he... was he the man with the white hair? The one who lead the army of the creatures last year?" Wes asked in a puzzled tone.

He'd just found out his brother had been turned into a vampire, and the fact that his father, who he didn't even know was the one who turned him as he too was a vampire. It was too much for him to deal with. He ran away, not because he was frightened, but because Soul told him too. He didn't know how to react. He thought he would find his brother later that day, his legs took over, sprinting in the other direction, saving his own life.

"The man who called himself father was right. Your blood is mouth watering" Wes moved back a few paces, fearful for his life. "Don't try and run away. Don't run away again. Don't even bother trying to I'll just force you back anyway" He said with an evil grin and twiddled his fingers in the air, his older brother coming towards him forcefully. He was in control and there was nothing Wes could do.

"I'm going to perform the unthinkable. I'm going to make you suffer. I'm going to make you wish you were dead." Soul's eyes glowed as he licked his lips and proceeded to walk forward, getting closer to his brother. His eyes glowed once again, they looked demonic and at the same time beautiful. Soul looked beautiful. No longer did his skin look blotchy or his under eye circles show. His face was a smooth untainted canvas. He examined his brother's being, smelling his scent. It was uncommon for a male human to have such a powerful scent that would attract a rogue vampire.

Wes felt two sharp narrow objects stabbing into the side of his throat, a rush of his precious blood being taken out quickly., the sound of the blood being taken made him feel nauseous. There was nothing Wes could do, but he felt weak and different. He began to have a seizure on the floor, jolting everywhere on the ground, the horses whining in the night but no one was there to stop them. How could he do this? His own brother

Everything went black.

Opening his eyes, Wes felt the sunlight impacting on his eyes. It was too bright, every spectrum of light was visible to him, every smell that was around him – the stench of the ale from the public houses, the smells of the horse manure... the scent of his blood on Soul's lips.

"What? What did you do to me! You've turned me into... into a vampire!" Wes spat out his words, anger filled him. He didn't want this... he didn't want any of it. Why did Soul do it? Why did he have to make him suffer for eternity?

"You may not have wanted it..." Soul turned his head in his older brother's direction, darting his pupil's into Wes' "...But you deserved it..."


	2. Blurred Memories

_Author's note – I seriously have NO idea what I'm doing with this story, I need to update the other two and I've got college in a d couple of days and everything is just a tad hectic. Well not really hectic, but it's just rushed considering I've managed to watch 4 seasons of The Vampire Diaries (WHY DID I NEVER WATCH THIS BEFORE?!) in 4 days and I need sleep. Enjoy! ^.^ Will update Truth and Lies soon I haven't abandoned it!_

_- The Pouting Horse_

**Chapter 2 – Blurred memories**

"Take it easy, Maka." A red haired tall figure who dressed in a ridiculous manor, meaning his signature black cross tie that didn't look good in any crowd, cautioned his blond haired daughter who styled a cast on her right leg and purple blotches on the same side of her body her cast was plastered on.

"I've got it papa, thanks" She forced a smile on her face to mask her pain pulsing through her leg, as if it was swelling larger every moment, every time the pain pulsed, every time she breathed. She held onto his jacket, tugging it fiercely pulling herself up, not letting her leg weight bring her down _(she said in a bad pun)._ "Are you sure? I don't want my little princess-"

"Papa we're in a public place and I'm not 5 any more don't call me a little princess!" She snapped back at him, her eyebrows narrowed, her lips in a straight line. She stared at him, whilst his face held the most sincere apologetic look she'd ever seen on him. Clearly he was still an emotional wreck since the accident. "Sorry... I keep forgetting... it's been a long time... but at least you know you're 16. The doctor said from your symptoms that there was hope, that you'd automatically know important things like your age and name, which is weird since most people don't and it often takes years for them to retrieve them." He added, giving her a weak yet warming smile as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her up whenever she sloped from the weight of her cast.

"So... this is our house?" She asked him, looking down at a small one storied building that stood out from the rest, mainly because it was grey, cracked and had large black lines that resembled stitches painted all over it. To Maka, the place looked like a freaking prison for the mentally insane. "No it's-" The door began to rattle before Spirit could answer and slowly creaked open, a small blacked out shadow cast itself upon the door from the sun. Clearly this person didn't know how to screw in a light bulb. "Hey Spirit, Maka" The shadow said as it crept out from the building, Maka's heart raising just a little in fear that this person was a psychopath ready to autopsy her.

He was tall, around his mid 30's despite the fact that his mid length hair was entirely a light matt grey, leaving the young girl unsure as to weather it was dyed or naturally that colour. Shockingly enough though, his whole face and body were covered in stitches, just like the building he came out of, the most remarkable one going right across his face. Although his most distinguishing feature was, without a doubt, his large grey screw that punctured its way through his head, to which Maka wondered where it ended, hoping not in his brain. "Hey Stein, good to see you. Maka, you know Stein right? He's your science teacher at Death City Academy." He asked her, as two heads looked in her direction making her feel awkward.

"No, not really. I don't know. Sorry" She replied with a poker face before lowering her head to the floor and twiddling her fingers around each other. "It's only natural for you not to recognise me, but you're the reason we've come here today Maka. Why don't we come inside. I'm guessing you want some alcohol Spirit?"

"No alcohol, I'm not drinking any more. Could I just get a tea or coffee? Which ever one you have is fine."

"Pity. Oh well, sure I've got some coffee, Marie got some when she came back from New Zealand after her politics trip. The shit tastes amazing." He replied, a small devilish grin appeared on his face, and proceeded to walk through the door, his hands in his which laboratory coat pockets.

The inside of it where pretty minimalistic: a small settee with stitches, matching the stitched pillowcases; a black LCD TV on the matte grey wall; a stitched effect coffee table; cupboards; shelves; mugs and plates which all branded the same stitch pattern on them. Maka placed her hand against the wall where on of the stitches were, surprised that it felt as if the deep black lines were purposely put there, their abyss-like groves supporting her curiosity.

She dug her nails into it, feeling the rugged texture inside from its misleading smooth appearance. It felt like one of her stitches on her arm, the skin scabbing over, delicate but rough at the same time. If felt somewhat nostalgic, but she couldn't figure out why. She knew that she had scabbed her knee... it wasn't unlikely that a catastrophic accident prone person like her wouldn't fall over and scrap her skin. Feeling the new skin as it crawled over he closed wound, she couldn't figure out where that mark had came from.

"Maka? Come here honey"

"Papa will you stop with the honey and the childish names? Like I said, I'm... I'm..."

"16. You're 16... Maka" He finished for her, finishing her sentence that she couldn't. She obeyed his imperative, and hobbled over with her injuries. She felt nervous, she'd not stood next to her papa and a person she'd never met before in a long time... not unless they were doctors. "Maka, Stein here is going to do something to you. Its painless, I promise you but he wants to help you as much as he can."

"I... I don't know. I don't know him. I can't trust him. I don't want any more crazy things happening to me papa!" She replied back in a confused and worried manor. It wasn't like her to do so... from what she could remind herself of, but she landed in his arms, half from falling over from the leg cast and half from being terrified. She liked to think it was falling over more than being scared.

"Maka, I trust this man..." Spirit began, looking at Stein as he gave him a small smile, the cigarette in his mouth gouged between his teeth "... with my life. Trust me, there have been times-"

"-Times like when? Huh? Papa tell me or I... I won't do it." She finalised, her eyes became tense and a serious look appeared on her bruised face. The two adults in the room slowly stared at one another, a bead of sweat going down one of their temples each, looking directly into each others eyes, not in an erotic-suggestive way, but as if they knew what the other was thinking. As if they knew what they were going to say to Maka. As if they knew that if they told her, the reaction could be... unexpected.

"Maka, we can't. Not yet... anyway. You have to trust me. Trust that I will not harm you. Do you think that your father would let me go through with this if it harm you in any way?" Stein looked at her as she looked at her father who stared back at her, his eyes gentle and trusting.

"...Once. If anything happens to me..." she stared at her father, her face stern once more. "... I'm leaving and I'll never come back to Death City and live with mama in Belgium." A short sigh burst from Spirits mouth, before he placed his hand on Maka's small shoulder, covering it in a blanket of skin. "You won't go to your mama, because there would be no need"

"Maka, can you come beside me please and close your eyes? Its part of the... procedure"

"Close my eyes?" She asked him as she walked to his side, dragging her leg behind her. "Yes. In order for this to work you need to close your eyes" He asked her, turning his body so that he faced the back of her. She felt her heart pumping really quickly, fearing at the unknown. "...okay" She whispered and closed her eyes, her heart pounding faster than ever.

Stein placed his index and middle fingers on each side of her head, directly on her temples... his breathing became slow and paced as he closed his own eyes.

All Maka could see in her mind was... nothing. Absolute blackness. Then it came. "H... help me. S... someone please help me" Her voice sang out in her mind, terrified as parts of it shrieked in pain, music to the devil's ears. Then it ended. Her eyes opened without her reflexes at the same time as the professors did, their pupils vanishing, leaving their irises to fill their eyes. Spirit gasped, looking at their soulless optical organs, his hair on ends. "Stein that's enough!" Spirit exclaimed, watching his daughter and best friends blacks return to their eyes, his head still spinning from the effect it had on him, despite him not the experiment subject.

"Well?" Spirit asked Stein, looking at him whilst Stein's glasses glared at him back. He let go of Maka's head, raised one to his head and turned the screw, the cog inside clicking three to four times whenever he did it. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, stomped it on the floor and with one hand grabbed one from his lab pocket, it somehow already lit. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Sorry, Spirit. Its too early for me to do this sort of thing"

"I understand. You tried and you were unsuccessful, it's only natural for you to-" The glasses began to smash by themselves, beakers, conical flasks and shot glasses. "- Shit Stein! Maka!" He shouted at him, as the room went silent and the smashing glass halted, before it landed loudly on the concrete floor and scattered everywhere. "I think we should go now Maka, Stein needs to be by himself. Thank you professor." Spirit said sternly, placing his arm around his daughter's shoulder, supporting her as she walked silently beside him, shaking from the unexplained reason behind the paranormal phenomenon. What did he mean when he shouted at Stein? Was it _he_ who did it? Impossible. The supernatural magical criteria was only in fictional books and the occasional badly directed films _(like The Last Airbender and Paranormal Activity)_. Walking out the door, the father of the duo let the daughter go out first, looking back on the man who stood by himself, tense and distorted. "Stein. It was one time, let it go." Spirit asked him kindly, his eyes softening at the man.

"I failed. I couldn't... I couldn't do it. This has never happened to me before."

"Just calm down, your getting too caught up over it, its not your fault. I need to go and tend to my daughter. Thank you for your help" he repeated his thankfulness, but in vain as Stein did not prevail. Spirit let his fingers slip from the cracked and stitched door, darkness filling up the room the mad professor was isolated in.

Walking back to the car they came out of, a grand long machine with a skull mask as the logo, the doors opened by themselves, Spirit explaining that it was an automatic thing, as he slipped in first, moving the chairs about so Maka could rest her leg. Looking around in the unfamiliar street, she was alone somehow. It wasn't dark, but her surroundings became cold and depressing. Her head began to spin as she saw a black... something. No she knew _exactly_ what it was but couldn't get her dysfunctional brain to tell her what it was. "Wh... what is there? Reveal yourself!"

"Maka?" her father asked her as his head peered from the car door, looking at her, trying to figure out what she was looking at. He turned his body around, gripping on to the sides of the car door, his head bobbing up from the roof of the metal beast and staring at... nothing. "Maka what is it?"

"I... I though I just saw... nevermind"

"Come on lets go home" He replied back to her, his eyes darting everywhere like a huge school of fish in a small pond. Reluctantly, she stopped looking and let her papa place her in the car. She felt pathetic being 16 and having to be put in a car by her own dad. Driving off, the road became silent once more...

"_It can't be her. Why is she here? I thought she'd not made it out. She can't be here. Oh Maka Albarn, just wait until you get your hands full once again. Then you'll be in trouble..."_


End file.
